


Back to the Past

by bleebug



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M, Future Fic, Pregnant Emma, Rated T for swearing, Time Travel Shenanigans, a spell within a spell, time travel-inception
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-28
Updated: 2017-03-28
Packaged: 2018-10-12 08:23:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,840
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10486461
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bleebug/pseuds/bleebug
Summary: “Shit,” Emma agreed, blinking in the relative darkness of the night. “We’re back in the Enchanted Forest. Again. Fuck my life.”“Aye, well, we know where we are… now just to figure out the when.”





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [optomisticgirl](https://archiveofourown.org/users/optomisticgirl/gifts).



> Gift fic for @optomisticgirl for the 500 Follower Giveaway. This is EXTREMELY LATE and I'm sorry for that.
> 
> Prompt: CS + time travel shenanigans (ALSO I KNOW YOU WANTED CS KIDDOS TO BE INVOLVED SO I HOPE THIS IS OK EVEN THOUGH WE DON'T DIRECTLY MEET THEM)

“Emma, love, you all right?” Killian didn’t bother brushing the dirt off his knees and arms and instead immediately went over to his wife, helping her to sit up from where she’d landed on the moss and dirt-covered ground. He released her hand and placed his palm over her slightly protruding belly. “Is the baby okay? Are either of you hurt?”

“Stop fussing, Killian, we’re both fine. I’m just a little out of breath from landing on my back, but nothing major. Relax.”

His shoulders sagged in relief and he pulled her up to stand, doing a quick once-over of her form to make sure she really didn’t have any injuries before swiveling his head and taking in the area around them. 

“Bloody hell…”

“Shit,” Emma agreed, blinking in the relative darkness of the night. “We’re back in the Enchanted Forest. _Again_. Fuck my life.”

“Aye, well, we know _where_ we are… now just to figure out the when.”

Emma cringed, internally cursing her magic for not cooperating as it should. She hadn’t _meant_ to recreate the time travel spell and open a portal to the past. But pregnancy was doing weird things to her, including making her powers unpredictable. All she’d done was grab the wand, fully intending on bringing the object to Regina to carry out a spell, and suddenly she and Killian were tumbling through a vortex and being spit out… well, here. Whenever _here_ was.

“Does it matter?” she asked as she pulled a leafy twig from her hair. “I’ll just use the wand again and create a portal back to our time. We won’t even have to worry about screwing things up in the past again.”

“If you can manage to get your magic under control.”

“I’m sorry, do _you_ want to wave the damn thing around and take us home, Harry Potter?”

His lips twitched upward, but he still shook his head and deferred to her clearly superior (though currently unstable) magical abilities. They both looked to the ground close to where Emma had landed, but at first glance, the wand didn’t appear to be anywhere. 

Killian knelt down, pushing plants and rocks aside so they could see better, but again, neither saw even a sliver of white amongst the shadowed colors of earth.

And then they heard a large twig snap, both bolting upright and jerking their heads towards the sound.

Eyes widened, jaws went slack. And Emma and Killian both saw two pairs of _very_ familiar eyes staring back at them.

“Oh my god,” Emma muttered, nearly in unison with the mirror image of herself standing not ten feet in front of them.

Well, not entirely a mirror image. This one was wearing a scarlet ball gown, her hair pulled atop her head in a prim up-do, her slim, non-pregnant form laced up tight in a corset beneath the fabric. To her side stood her dashing pirate in princely attire, his hook gone and a gloved prosthetic in its place. 

“I suppose this puts our whole ‘not messing up the timeline this time’ thing in a bit of trouble, doesn’t it,” her Killian whispered from beside her, as if his former self would overhear.

Then they both noticed the flash of white in her hand. 

“Uh,” the past Emma stuttered, holding up the wand to them but still staring in complete shock. “I… found this.”

“Yeah. That’s, uh, that’s ours. Mine, I mean. It’s… just…” Emma took a few steps forward and snatched the wand from her hand. 

“Did we break the timeline… or something?” the past Killian asked. Emma noticed that his gaze was lingering on her baby bump. He leaned over to her former self. “Is that you when you were pregnant with Henry?”

“ _No_ ,” she whispered back angrily. “I was in prison the whole time I was pregnant with Henry. She’s not wearing prison scrubs. Besides, she’s-…”

She gestured wildly with her hands in their direction.

“Older?” Emma deadpanned. “Yeah, that tends to happen when time passes.” 

“You look as lovely as the day I met you. Even lovelier, actually, without a knife to my throat,” Killian assured her, throwing in way too much cheek for their current situation. He lowered his voice a bit and leaned close. “Perhaps we should make that portal now? Go home?”

“Killian, we have to wipe their memories first. They can’t know about us because _we_ didn’t know about us.”

“Wait,” his past self choked out. His eyes flickered back and forth between Emma’s left hand and Killian’s right, now bare of all rings but one. They looked to each other with slight grimaces, already fearing that they might be further ruining the timeline that the _other_ versions of them were currently trying to fix. “Are you… are _we_ …?”

“Oh my god,” the past Emma repeated, taking a step back. Emma wasn’t surprised in the least at her reaction. This point in history, the two of them weren’t even technically together yet. 

And now she, like Hook, was surely putting the pieces together and realizing that not so many years in her future, the man beside her would not only be her husband, but the father of her child.

_Their_ child. 

Her past self grabbed onto a branch and lowered herself to the ground and Emma would have gone over to her – to what? comfort herself? try to stop the impending panic attack? – but she couldn’t quite do so when Hook was stepping up and staring at her in wonder. She glanced over to Killian and motioned for him to step over and try to calm her past self down.

Hook’s eyes were full of longing and awe and no small amount of fear as he looked down at her belly. His hand began to reach forward but he stopped himself, glancing up with a flicker of… something.

Emma couldn’t help feeling almost guilty at the fact that he looked like he couldn’t even believe what he was seeing. He was already in love with her at this time, she knew, and though she had most certainly felt things for him, she was too afraid to let him in. For him to see a glimpse into his future, a happy one where they were together and growing their family, must be surreal.

“You can touch,” she murmured, grabbing his hand and pulling it forward. “He’s yours, after all.”

“He?” he gaped, fingers hesitantly spreading over her protruding baby bump. “This is real? This isn’t one of the crocodile’s tricks?”

“It’s real.”

“How? How are you even here?”

She flushed, shrugging apologetically.

“The hormones are kind of tripping up my magic. This was a total accident.”

“Your… magic. So, I guess we succeed in returning your powers after all? Zelena’s spell wears off?”

“Yeah… it’s actually how we get home after all this.”

He gasped suddenly, his fingers drawing back for a moment before spreading again over her belly.

“Was that a kick?” he asked incredulously. “Did it- _he_ just kick?”

“He recognizes your voice,” she explained, trying not to grin at his shock.

As he continued to stare down, a flabbergasted and oddly hopeful look in his eyes, her gaze flickered over to her own Killian crouching down in front of the Emma who’d practically collapsed to the forest floor. 

“Deep breaths, love,” he said, his voice low and soothing in an attempt to calm her down.

“No… no, this is… what even is this?” She shook her head back and forth like she was trying to force herself to wake up from a dream, and Killian reached out his hand and placed it solidly on her shoulder.

“Emma Jo-… Swan. Look at me.”

She obeyed, though she still had a wild look to her expression, a look that, after several years in the modern world, he could distinctively call the ‘deer in headlights’ expression. The poor woman appeared like she wished to bolt right then and there but she was too frozen in shock to move. (Where would she go anyway? She wasn’t exactly an expert on the Enchanted Forest, and without him – or the _other_ him, rather – there to guide her towards the castle, she’d probably find herself walking in circles for hours.)

“How long?” she demanded weakly, nervously swiping her tongue through her lips. “How long before…” She glanced over at the man she’d been struggling with feelings for over the last several months (she didn’t count that pesky year in New York) and then turned her attention to the older, definitely pregnant, practically glowing version of herself. “… before I’m her?” she finished on a whisper.

Killian sighed, removing his hand from her shoulder to scratch next to his ear – at which point she realized that this was, without a doubt, the same man, odd nervous tics and all – and shrugged. 

“About four years.”

“Are you kidding me?” She started to reach up to run her fingers through her hair, but then seemed to remember that it was all done up fancy because she was supposed to be playing the part of some princess or other. “But… we aren’t even _together_.”

“Aye, at this point in time, no. We weren’t. Aren’t. Which is why there’s no need to panic.” 

“How can you say that? I’m just supposed to _accept_ that in barely a few years we’re going to be… to have a… a…”

“A baby?”

Killian cringed as soon as the words were out of his mouth, because he should have known that the direct mention of a child would throw Emma from this time period for a loop. She scrambled back a little, trying to put some distance between them, and he sighed heavily before retreating, accepting that he was only causing more damage.

When he stepped up next to his wife and his younger self, noting the anxious crease to his brow and the way he was shifting his weight from one foot to the other and stammering between questions about his ( _their_ ) future, he cleared his throat. 

“Love, I think she… you… I think I might’ve made things worse,” he confessed. He wished he could have comforted her, assured her that not so long from now she’d be more secure, more trusting, more open and loving and affectionate because they had been through _so much_ together and had just as true a love as her fairy tale parents, but that wasn’t something she was likely to take well from her future pirate husband. In fact, it might make her shut down completely.

“Yeah, I’m on it.” Emma patted the prince-like Hook on the chest and gave an apologetic smile before slowly approaching herself as if she were a skittish animal.

Killian’s brow quirked up when his past self puffed out a long, audible breath.

“All right there?”

He jolted, turning his attention to Killian instead of staring at the retreating back of Emma Jones. Killian stayed silent as Hook assessed him, eyeing him up and down, noticing all the changes a few years time had done to him. Killian was dressed from head to toe in modern clothing, the likes of which Hook had only seen, not attempted to wear. How soon would that change? How long before he would feel so comfortable with the idea of staying in Emma’s world before he decided to dress the part?

“Aye, I think,” he responded after a few long moments of silent perusal. “You know, you’re not the first other me that I’ve made acquaintance with in the past day.”

“Hopefully this encounter will end on pleasanter terms.”

“No promises,” he quipped, though there wasn’t much feeling behind it. “Actually I may ask you to hit _me_ , just so I know this isn’t a dream.”

“I’d take you up on that if you didn’t have a ball to get to. The glamour spell doesn’t hide black eyes or bloody noses, far as I know. And I don’t seem to recall any injuries appearing without explanation.”

“Right. The timeline. I suppose… you’ll be wiping our memories?”

“Aye, considering I’ve no memory of this.” He watched Emma sit next to herself and press a comforting hand on her back. After all they’d been through over the years, it was hardly the strangest sight he’d been exposed to.

“In that case… would you mind telling me how it all happens?” Hook asked, a plea in his eyes. “How did you, or, how will I win her heart? How long must I wait?”

Killian chuckled softly. “Not long, mate. Not long at all.”

He began to share details of their future with himself, an abridged version, to be sure, but enough to completely captivate the attention of his past self.

Not fifteen feet away, Emma was trying hard just to keep her past self from ditching them all and running off, timeline be damned.

“How are you not freaking out at all? You’re _pregnant_. God. I’m gonna be pregnant.”

“Look, I get it. I do. Really. Because I was you before, and I know that the idea of even letting someone in right now is a scary thing.”

“It just doesn’t make any sense. I’m planning on taking Henry and going back to New York once we get back home. And you’re telling me, what, that that’s not what’s gonna happen? Or does Hook follow us to New York?” 

“We don’t go back to New York.”

“Why _not_? Why wouldn’t I do what’s best for Henry? Why wouldn’t I take him where he’ll be safe?”

Emma blew a soft breath through her nose, not surprised at the reactions she was getting, but concerned all the same with this glimpse back into the past. She was still so full of doubt. Still so hesitant about the idea of letting herself trust someone, to fall in love again. And she was just so damn _stubborn_. She suddenly felt great respect for her husband who had seen her through all of it.

“You wanna know why we stay in Storybrooke?” she said, forcing her past self to look her in the eyes. “Because it’s our _home_. Because what we’ve wanted our whole life, a _family,_ is right there waiting for us. Mom, Dad, our little brother. Because we’re better together than we are apart. And yeah, it’s scary, but Killian is a part of that family too. And this?” She grabbed her hand and pulled it to her baby bump. Her past self’s eyes widened. “Is just another step forward.”

The princess’s eyes glazed over for a moment, a sheen of frustrated tears maybe, or just from the shock and disbelief of it all.

“After Henry… I figured I would never…”

“Never have another child. I know. But things change. And I don’t know if it’s any consolation, but we didn’t get pregnant on purpose. And I was really terrified when I found out. I think I was for the first couple months.”

“But you aren’t anymore?” Her voice was quiet and contemplative. Emma nodded in response.

“When we found out it was a boy… I dunno. I guess something shifted in me. Not that I don’t want a girl, just… knowing that I was waiting on a _him_ instead of an _it_ made a difference. He became a real person, you know? I know that sounds weird.”

Emma was surprised to find that her past self looked significantly calmer, accepting almost. The baby moved around beneath their fingers, enough to make Emma shift uncomfortably at the pressure. 

“No. I think I get it,” she murmured. “Maybe.”

Emma wasn’t sure what made her do it. It might have been the blessing of knowing that in just a few moments, she’d be wiping their memories clean. But she felt like she needed to share something with herself. A gift.

“Charles,” she said quietly. Her past self’s brows drew together in confusion and Emma smiled softly in response. “His name. We’ve already picked. He’s gonna be Prince Charles David Jones. Sounds distinguished, right?” 

“Charles…” she echoed back, eyes gleaming a little as she felt him move under her fingers, just as Hook had done a moment ago. “Why Charles?”

Emma shook her head, smiling.

“It just… it’s a name that means something to us. Me and Killian. You’ll figure it out soon enough.”

“And… you’re happy?” she whispered, taking a few measured breaths and gazing up with an almost hopeful smile, though still tight with nerves. “I’m gonna be happy?”

“The happiest. Really.”

“Love?” Killian called, drawing their attention. “I think we best be getting back. Regina’s probably wondering where we are by now, and you know we need to bring her the wand.”

“Right, of course.” She turned to her side and attempted to hoist herself up from the ground, but it took a little help from the younger, blessedly non-pregnant version of herself to stand. She thanked her and then helped her in return to brush off the dirt and grass from her red gown. It was so odd, but she’d seen quite a lot in the past few years and it was hardly something outside of the realm of possibilities with all the magic and wonder about. 

At least it would be a nice little memory just for her and Killian, a glimpse back into the past, a reminder of how far they’d come, and of how much further they still would go. She’d never been more excited to take another step forward in their relationship – first enemies, then allies, then friends and lovers; now happily married and with a child on the way.

She grasped the wand in her hand and looked to her husband, promising herself she’d hold him in her arms soon. He was wearing an amused smile, but there was a tenderness and warmth to it that was so achingly beautiful in its familiarity.

With a flick of her free hand, a dreamcatcher appeared and she turned toward their doubles. They were staring at each other – Hook with adoration, Emma with cautious curiosity.

“So much for that ‘one-time thing,’ ey Swan? Appears you’re stuck with me for life.”

“Shut up,” she replied with a lot less bite than any of them expected. “I’m sure you just wore me down, is all. I settled.”

Hook laughed, and Killian tried not to. “Whatever you say, future wife.” 

“Watch it, Hook.”

“All right, you two. There will be plenty of time for bickering _after_ you get my parents together and fix the timeline.” Emma closed her eyes and concentrated, trying to block out all distractions so she could make sure to use her magic properly this time.

One hand swished the wand, thankfully opening a portal home, the blue-white vortex swirling around beside them. The other hand held up the dreamcatcher, glowing bright with magic as she pulled the memories from their heads. Their eyes closed as their minds were wiped of the last several minutes, and Emma turned to Killian with a grin right before she lowered the object and jumped through the portal with him.

They landed in water. Ice-cold, slimy, shallow water.

Emma huffed indignantly as she looked around, feeling rather embarrassed to have opened the portal above the pond in Storybrooke Park, a few feet from the grassy edge.

“At least we’re home?” Killian chuckled, clearly not as annoyed with their current problem. He helped her on her feet and rubbed at her arms to warm her as they stepped back onto dry land.

“There is that,” she muttered, shivering as her sopping clothes clung uncomfortably to her form, wet stretch-jeans and semi-see-through maternity blouse weighing down her already heavy body. She quickly shoved both the wand and dreamcatcher into Killian’s arms. “Quick, take these before something else happens and I erase our memories and… turn us into frogs or something…”

“Oh, I don’t know that it would be so terrible. I could happily live here in the pond with you and our tadpole.”

Emma laughed at that, leaning forward to wrap her arms around his waist and press a lingering kiss to his cheek. He returned the gesture, nuzzling into her and unintentionally causing her light magic to flare up once again, though this time it simply surrounded them in a pleasant warmth that dried their clothes and bodies.

“Hey, see!” she exclaimed, beaming as she stepped back. “I _can_ do some stuff right.”

Killian nodded obligingly and she nudged him with her shoulder as they started walking back towards Main Street. Despite her initial worries, she felt a little grateful for their side-trip to the past. Maybe it was meant to be.

 

* * *

 

The castle was solid gold and the ballroom was just as magical and ostentatious as Emma had expected. But they weren’t here to have fun and appreciate the décor; they were here to make sure that Snow White stole that ring, and that her parents would meet and everything would be back on track. Then they could return to Rumpelstiltskin and he would send them to their own time, and this could all just be like some crazy dream that she could leave behind, along with everything else in Storybrooke.

She ignored the little pang of unease that settled in her heart when she thought of going back to New York, instead grimacing a little at the tightness of her corset, the stiffness of the sleeves of her dress.

“Just when I thought the clothes here couldn’t get any worse.”

“You might not be able to move, Swan,” Hook said, turning to her with a pleased smile and a quirk of his brow. “But you cut quite the figure in that dress.”

She preened a little at his comment, feeling a touch more relieved at their situation despite the unfamiliarity of it all, knowing somehow that that had been exactly his intention. They didn’t get far before they were addressed.

“Greetings,” the man said, standing tall, head adorned with a magnificent crown that was just as golden as the rest of the castle. “I am King Midas, father of the bride. Who do I have the honor to welcome into my home?”

King Midas. Now there was a name that caught her attention. No _wonder_ everything was made of gold.

“I am…” Killian began, looking, for once, at a complete loss for words. Was he just taken off guard, or was Emma not entirely imagining the slightly star-struck expression on his face. “I’m… Prince, uh…”

Oh, god, he was going to blow it if he didn’t gather his wits about him. She should help. A name, a name…

_Charles_ , she thought suddenly. Odd. It felt less like a thought and more like a memory. Where had she heard that name before? _He’s gonna be Prince Charles_ , that little voice in her head supplied. Why did it sound like something she’d said before?

The awkward silence was dragging on and Emma quickly shook away her thoughts and focused on the matter at hand. 

“Charles,” she said, smiling like the princess she was supposed to be. “Prince Charles.”


End file.
